


I Want You to Stay

by FFanon



Category: Sweet Virginia (2017)
Genre: Angst, Extended Take, F/M, Movie Spoilers, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFanon/pseuds/FFanon
Summary: Your relationship with Sam has been discreet, but you're starting to feel like maybe the relationship means more to you than it does to him.





	I Want You to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> My extended take on the scene where Bernie asks Sam to stay.

Somehow you hear a faint sound and it’s enough to make you drift out of sleep and open your eyes, the room still draped in darkness. You’re naked but you’re under the covers and yet you feel colder than you remember.

As soon as he heard your body shift behind him, Sam stands from sitting on the edge of the bed and walks around the end of it to get to your side.

Sam isn’t next to you anymore, you realize that’s why you’re colder. When the bed moves from him standing, you turn your head to look at him, “What time is it?” your voice thick with sleep.

“Late,” the southern man replies. You hear his uneven footsteps round the end of the bed as you lean over and switch the bedside light on.

“I was trying to be so quiet,” his apologetic tone clear.  As you sit up, the covers tucked across your bare chest and under your arms, Sam takes a seat on the edge, next to you.

His hand slides to cup your cheek as his soft grin leans in closer, “Good Morning” he whispers as he kisses you.

“Why are you dressed?” you realize when you pull away. All his clothes that you tossed aside earlier are back on his muscled frame.

“I gotta go,” and he dips his head to press his lips to your neck as your hand grips his forearm that’s across your sheet covered thigh.

“Why? I’ll make breakfast. We can eat it in bed,” your voice soft as your eyes close at his warm kisses to your sensitive skin.

You feel him grin against your neck before he breathes out against it, “That sounds so good, but I can’t,” he answers as he lifts his head back into view.

“Can’t or you won’t?” and as you get the question out, he’s tenderly holding your chin as he presses his lips to your forehead. At the question itself, again he grins against your skin before looking at you.

Whatever he’s doing, you don’t understand. And the more he does this, the more upset you become.

He kisses your shoulder next, “I have to go,” he mumbles, sidestepping an actual answer. More kisses he presses to your other arm and the base of your throat.

“You wouldn’t have to if you lived here,” you quietly comment, your hand gently grasping the side of his neck. Even as he lifts his head to look at you, you keep that hold on him, thumb smoothing over his skin.

“You think about that?” he softly asks, eyes unreadable.

Shy at the admission, your eyes glance to his beard and then his tshirt, “More so lately.”

Now it’s his turn to glance away before giving a tiny nod. When he turns back to you, he leans in, “Kiss me goodbye,” he requests low.

More annoyed now, you turn your head with a furrowed brow as he goes to kiss you, “No.”

Sam hangs his head briefly before looking at you.

“Just stay, Sam,” you barely get out in an emotional whisper, “I want you to stay.”

Just as low, no malice in his tone, “And I’m telling you I can’t.”

You turn your head as you feel tears forming. A quick lick of your lower lip as you cover your mouth with just the tips of your fingers.

He knows what he’s done to you with this. Nothing hurts him more than seeing you upset, but to know he’s the cause? He wishes he could answer his own question of what’s wrong with him.

As he goes to touch you in comfort, you move your arm away and stand up. Sam’s eyes trail along the beautiful, natural curves of your body; the same body he had his hands and mouth all over only several hours ago.

You grab your robe off the chair it’s draped over and slide your arms in before hastily tying the belt at your waist.

“Hey,” he says in an offer of some kind.

“Do you even still want to do this?” you cross your arms, trying desperately not to let tears fall.

Sam moves his head back a fraction, his brows knitting together, “I don’t even know what you’re doing right now.”

“That’s not an answer,” your voice quiet, scared.

He stands up and walks over to you, “Yeah I still want to do this,” his hands rubbing your arms.

“So stay. I don’t understand what _you’re_ doing right now.”

Sam’s beard brushes his chest as he lowers his head for a moment, “I can’t do that,” his brown eyes finding your face.

“No, Sam, you _won’t_ do that. You never do that,” you voice raised a bit more now, “Every time we’re together at the motel, I leave. But not because I want to, because you want me too. And I choose to understand that. But then even the few times we’re here - no one around - and you leave. But I never ask you too, you decide that all on your own,” you move from his grasp and walk a few steps past him, eyes drawn to the view of the dark, empty street outside your bedroom window.

Out of habit, and at this point some kind of comfort, he holds his hands against his stomach; his left rubbing the right. Turning to follow your new path, he takes a step forward, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He hears the quiet sound of a breath of a laugh before he sees you give a tiny shake of your head. Sam takes another step forward, bringing his right hand to just brush over your hip as he cranes his neck to try to get a glimpse of your face.

Then the first tear rolls down your cheek, followed immediately by one down the other. Instantly you wipe them away, but more are coming, you can feel it. Before he can comment on them, you turn into him enough for him to see you. Almost defeated, you share, “I want you to tell me that this means something to you because it means something to me. I love you. I’m not asking for much here, Sam. I’m not expecting us to get married tomorrow or even five years from now, but I just…I want to know it’s at least somewhere in our future. That what we have is something you actually want, because honestly? I question your feelings every time you walk out that door.”

And instead of an answer, he cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you but again you turn your head, placing a hand on his chest. His lips end up brushing your eyelashes before landing at the corner of your eye.

“Stop! Will you just talk to me?” you step back.

And for the first time that you can remember, he appears frustrated.

“Talk about what exactly? About how I won’t stay because I don’t know how to do this?”

It only leaves you confused, but he continues.

“I haven’t been this serious with anyone since-since my divorce. And the way that all ended…” he trails off, looks to the window.

His daughter had died. That’s what tore he and his wife apart. You know that and you feel for him like no other, especially now when he’s opening up which is rare.

He glances at his feet before his eyes are back on you, “I don’t know if I _can_ do this,” he sadly adds.

The sadness envelopes your whole being, “Wh-what are you saying?”

“Look at you. The way men look at you, you could have any one of them. All of them better than who I am now. You deserve stability and someone who’ll take care of you. That’s not me.”

So confused and upset by his words you forget to wipe the tears now freely rolling down your face.

“What…you do take care of me…why are saying this?”

“Because I’m broken!” he says loud in obvious frustration. The way you give a low gasp makes him instantly regret it. Lowering his voice, pained, “Look at me. Look at this,” holding out his right hand to indicate the constant tremors before pulling it back to be held against his torso, “I can come to terms with it, with the fact that it’s only going to get worse. But I can’t come to terms with ever forcing that burden onto you. You deserve a life where you’re being taken care of, you won’t get that with me. All you’ll get with me is a life full of resentment and disappointment the worse it gets, I can’t have that. I can’t have yourself doing that for me,” he shakes his hand, glancing between your eyes and the wall over your shoulder.

Rendered almost speechless by his confession, your voice is heavy with emotion as your heart breaks for him, “Shouldn’t that be my decision to make?”

“No,” he looks directly at you, “Because you’ll choose to stay, I know you,” and a hint of a fond grin tickles the corner of his mouth at how big your heart is, “It’s easier this way, or so I tell myself, if I keep you at some kind of distance than it’ll be easier for both of us when you finally realize for yourself what I just said,” and the glassy look to his eyes tears your insides apart.

For the next few seconds you both just stare at one another through teary eyes, the emotion hanging heavy in the air.

“You love something enough, you’ll let it go, yeah? That’s what they say?” he breaks the silence with a soft voice, “Well I love you,” he shares for the first time, his brows tilting up a bit as he says it in almost a confession.

Though your heart wants to burst, you can’t help but give a quick, sob of a laugh. Wiping tears, “The first time you tell me that and it’s to explain on why you think you should leave me alone,” you shake your head.

“See what I mean? I’m not the easy choice,” he tries to joke with a small smirk.

And you just look at him for a beat, his smirk disappearing.

In seconds you’re over to him, his ruggedly handsome, bearded face held by your hands as you kiss him.

Slowly, his arms move around you as he kisses you in return.

Your lips move away only enough for you to rest your forehead against his, thumbs brushing over the edge of his beard as he holds you close. When you pull back to look at him, you press a quick kiss to his lips before speaking.

“I don’t want easy,” his eyes search yours as you continue, “I just want to love you. For us to love each other, for as long as this life lets us. You may be different from who you used to be, but you are _not_ broken,” and a tear from the corner of his eye rolls into the crook of your thumb, “And you will never be a burden to me, you hear me? I want you exactly as you are, that’s the man I fell in love with.”

“You’re something else,” he whispers fondly, tears still evident in his gaze that’s also full of love as he sweetly pets your cheek before smoothing some hair out of your face.

Kissing his cheek and letting your lips linger on his face, you slide your hand into his hair. You look at him, waiting for him to say something else, something that will let you know just how he wants this to go now that you both got everything out like that.

“C’mere,” he barely whispers as he cups your cheek and pulls you close, kissing you. Another kiss pressed to the edge of your nose before he leans his forehead against yours.

“I can easily love you for the rest of my life,” he sweetly shares causing a smile to grow on your face. Then he finally says something that gives you the more definitive answer.

“Mind if I stay?” he grins.


End file.
